PTSD
by perpetualpathology
Summary: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder plagues Sam when she returns from her deployment and Tom puts their strained relationship aside in order to focus on getting his wife better. But it turns out that her treatment involves healing their relationship in order to stop the nightmares and daily emotional turmoil.
**Summary:** Post Traumatic Stress Disorder plagues Sam when she returns from her deployment and Tom puts their strained relationship aside in order to focus on getting his wife better. But it turns out that her treatment involves healing their relationship in order to stop the nightmares and daily emotional turmoil.

 **Prompt 8/100**

* * *

 **PTSD**

 **Sorry it's been a while but I've been plagued with college work in the lead up to my exams. This was written for OliverColeman, hope you like it!**

Upon his wife's return from her third deployment since their marriage, Tom believed he knew what to expect because he had already experienced the occasion twice and he had so many months to prepare for her return that he had no excuse not to be ready. But unfortunately for him, her third deployment had been far different to any other one and he'd known that from the minute he saw her outside the airport after they'd spent six months apart. She hadn't smiled when she saw him, she hadn't ran up to him or shouted his name. She had merely walked over to him, dropped her holdall on the floor and then gave him a very tight hug. He heard her inhale deeply as though she'd missed the smell of his aftershave but she barely said anything. They had then travelled home and for Tom, it had been like travelling with a stranger.

She'd spent months in a warzone, treating friends, colleagues and civilians alike so he knew she'd have seen some horrific things but she had been on two other deployments in the past two years and before her stint working in the emergency department, she had completed even more so he didn't know why this was any different. As the days since her return merged into weeks, he expected her to start to adjust back to 'normal' life but things just weren't right. She only ate to stay alive, eating small snacks here and there to keep her organs functioning and when he went to bed, she would lie in bed wide awake and when he woke, she would already be up so he doubted she was getting a lot of sleep either. He didn't question what had happened because he knew if she wanted to talk about it, she would've done already. He believed that it was just a 'settling in period'. That was, until she woke up screaming one night and that particular event alerted him to the frequent nightmares she had been having.

They occurred at least every other night, she'd wake up drenched in sweat, the bedsheets would be damp and thrown around on the floor where she thrashed around in her sleep and her heart would be racing. Sometimes she screamed, sometimes she didn't. Each day he'd leave for work leaving her in bed knowing full well that she was only pretending to sleep. She'd do house chores, the washing, but rarely left the house – she ordered shopping online and even then, the fridge was only filled because Tom was eating three meals a day, not her. Yet for a couple of months, he had convinced herself that she was okay, that she just needed time. It wasn't until he found out that she had resigned from the army that he knew something was seriously wrong. She claimed she was waiting to be instructed for her next deployment and that, though unusual because she had been out of work for two months, she would soon receive a letter or a phonecall. Instead, Tom had stumbled across a letter sent just days after she returned home when he was trying to find his national insurance number for working out his taxes. The creased piece of paper thanked her for her service to her country, and stated that they were disappointed she would not re-join her fellow troops – she had resigned and not told him.

He confronted her, asking her how long she was going to wait before she told him she was unemployed but that had only set off a huge argument…

* * *

 _"_ _I'm not mad at you for quitting, I just don't understand why you wouldn't tell me." He said softly, mere minutes after he had found the letter. She was curled up in the armchair in a hoodie and pair of tracksuit bottoms – what had become her usual attire – and he crouched down in front of her so he was at her level. "Sam, please." He pleaded. "You can talk to me, you know you can. About anything in the world-"_

 _"_ _You won't understand." She murmured._

 _"_ _Try me." He replied quickly. She flicked her eyes up and looked into his for a few moments before she look down, barely managing to make eye contact with him._

 _"_ _I'm ashamed, okay?" She blurted out._

 _"_ _Of what?"_

 _"_ _Of myself." She mumbled, knowing he desperately wanted further explanation and that if there was one person in the world who deserved to know, it was him. "I resigned because I refused to go out on another tour; I couldn't handle going through it all again. There are people who have been through far worse than me – people who have lost limbs, lost the ability to walk and talk and yet I don't think I could physically get onto another plane knowing I'm going to some godforsaken war-torn land – they'd have to drag me." She admitted._

 _"_ _There's no reason to be ashamed. You've already done more than your fair share of service to this country – you've done more than most people will ever do in their lifetimes and you're only thirty one." Tom assured her._

 _"_ _I knew you wouldn't understand." She laughed darkly to herself._

 _"_ _What? Who said I didn't under–"_

 _"_ _You think just telling me that will make things better, that talking fixes everything. Well it doesn't. I'm broken and there's nothing you can do to fix me." She snapped. "Sometimes I do want to be back there because I want to be around people who understand me, what I'm going through." She added before she stormed out of the room, into their bedroom and slammed the door behind her making the windows in the apartment rattle._

* * *

He'd spent the rest of that night sitting at the table with the laptop in front of him. He couldn't believe that for so long, he'd been so focused on trying to salvage their relationship when what he really needed to do was save Sam. How was it not obvious to him, a doctor, that she had PTSD. He knew, having a spouse in the army, that he had to be mindful of the symptoms and know what to do if he suspected something but he just couldn't believe that he'd been oblivious for months, worrying about his marriage instead of her mental health. But what would his next step be? Approach her about it? Or insist that she go to her GP to have a preliminary assessment? It was nearing midnight and he had just been about to fall asleep at the table when he heard the creak of the bedroom door handle.

* * *

 _"_ _Help me." She had said it so quietly, she might not have said it at all but he knew she had spoken because she padded out of the bedroom, sat opposite him at the table and appeared to be waiting for a response. In the vest and shorts that she was wearing, he was reminded of her lack of nutrition – he could see her hip bones protruding from her abdomen and her legs were far skinnier than they should've been. She was so fragile, both emotionally and physically, that he was scared to even touch her._

 _"_ _Nightmare?" He guessed. Her skin was flushed, clammy and her breathing was a touch faster. She nodded. "I've just been looking at this." He confessed. It was easier to show her than to explain so he turned the laptop to face her. It was on the PTSD NHS Choices page. "Just read it, please." He requested as she looked away once she realised what it was._

 _"_ _Tom I've read it so many times I know it word for word." She admitted as she closed the laptop so she didn't have to be reminded of something she didn't want to face up to._

 _"_ _Can I just ask… Was it the whole experience or was there one event that happened that… well y'know. You don't have to tell me what that event actually was, I just want to know what…"_

 _"_ _Broke me?"_

 _"_ _You're not broken." Tom protested._

 _"_ _Tom I came back with no injuries. Other people–"_

 _"_ _I don't care about other people, I care about you. And don't compare yourself to someone with physical injuries because mental health is an entirely different league to physical health. Neither is better or worse than the other – you can't compare them." Tom said sternly. "So come on, you didn't answer my question." He prompted._

 _"_ _It wasn't the general experience but it wasn't just one thing. There were a couple of… big events… that meant I just didn't want to do it again." Sam replied._

 _"_ _Do you think you'll ever be able to tell me what they were?" Tom asked. She looked down at the floor as she pondered the thought of divulging her darkest memories embedded deep in her brain that she was unlikely to ever forget. She wanted to tell him, very much so, but she just couldn't bring herself to put what had happened into words; it seemed impossible._

 _"_ _One day." She nodded eventually._

* * *

 _Twelve months later…_

"Thirty-one days, nightmare free." Sam announced as she crossed out the final day of the month on the calendar on the fridge.

"Yeah, you're doing really well." Tom smiled as he watched his wife grab a bottle of water so that she would be hydrated after her early morning run. His income from working as a senior registrar and paediatrician in the ED could support the both of them so she hadn't applied for another job yet, instead she had focused on her recovery. Having support sessions, both one on one and as part of a group of retired soldiers, and home visits from a psychiatric nurse hadn't made much of a difference for the first few months because she was adamant talking wouldn't help her. But once she agreed to give it a proper go instead of just turning up to the sessions and barely speaking, it began to make a real difference.

"I've got one more session tomorrow and then it's all over." She declared.

"I thought you still had a few more left."

"No, just one. Why?"

"I just didn't realise your treatment would finish so soon, that's all." Tom replied.

"There's one more thing you should probably know."

"Right." Tom tried to sound confident but he couldn't completely hide his worry as to what she was going to say.

"I know I don't talk much about what I do during the sessions but my one to ones have had one main aim from the start and in order to reach that aim, I need to do something tonight before my last session tomorrow." She confessed.

"What's that?"

"When you get home from work tonight, I'm going to tell you what happened when I was on tour. _Everything_ that happened." She declared. "I'll answer any questions you have… I just don't want to have any secrets from you anymore."

"But why has this been your main goal?" Tom protested. "In the therapy sessions, you're supposed to learn how to deal with your emotions and how to adjust back to normal life."

"That's just it. My therapist seems to think that once I've told you what happened, I will feel much better. And at first I thought she was mad and I hated her for thinking something so simple would help me but when I think about it, she's right. I don't like hiding things from you but I just didn't know how to explain things before. My therapist thinks that once my relationship with you is stronger, I'll be a stronger person because I won't feel so alone." Sam stated and Tom frowned before he had a sudden epiphany.

"I've been treating your mental health and our relationship as two different things but I suppose they aren't so different after all." He smirked. "Tonight you will have my full attention, I promise you. But for now, I've got to go earn us a living." He forced a smile as he pulled his coat on and then grabbed his phone, keys and wallet.

"I'll start touching up my CV soon. Maybe just part time to start off but I want to get back to working." Sam stated.

"There's no rush, whenever you're ready." Tom assured her before he kissed her on the forehead. "See you later." He smiled as she gave him a packed lunch she had made. "Thanks."

"Bye." Sam said as he left their apartment and closed the door behind him. She then walked through to their bedroom, sat on the edge of their bed and opened her bedside cabinet draw. "Although I might not be back at work for long because I'll have to take some leave for the both of us, won't I?" She said to herself quietly as she took out a pregnancy test. "I'd better be talking to someone in there after I cried at Toy Story 3 last night." She quipped as she smoothed a hand over her flat abdomen before she took a deep breath and strolled into the bathroom.

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think :) And good luck to everyone who has exams at the moment!**


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